


The End

by TheFierceBeast



Series: City on Fire [5]
Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Arguing, Cuddling & Snuggling, Emotional Constipation, Fluff and Angst, Gordlock - Freeform, Gotham is for lovers, Hopeful Ending, Idiots in Love, Jealous Harvey, Jealousy, Kissing, Love Confessions, M/M, Manly Crying, Men Crying, Misunderstandings, Now kiss, Romance, Sexy Arguing, Stress, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, True Love, Unresolved Sexual Tension, random GCPD officer cameo, they both need therapists
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-06
Updated: 2019-09-06
Packaged: 2020-10-11 01:44:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20538119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheFierceBeast/pseuds/TheFierceBeast
Summary: Harvey and Jim finally realise that they’re not just best-buddy bro-dudes and it’s definitely not platonic.Final part in my 'City on Fire' series of fic.





	The End

“You seen the boss?” Harvey asks Cohen, as he passes.

“Yeah. He’s... indisposed, if you catch my drift.” Cohen’s eyes twinkle, as much down-to-earth amusement as Harvey’s seen around the precinct in weeks, but all he can do in return is furrow his brow, confused.

“He’s in the john?”

“Nah man. He’s ‘interrogating a suspect’.”

Harvey can practically hear the air quotes, but he’s still none the wiser. “What, about the bombing?” After the day’s fiasco with Zsasz being proven innocent for the carnage at Haven, he’d thought both him and Jim were good for nothing but drowning their sorrows. “You’re gonna have to speak slowly. Spell it out for me, like I’m dumb - shouldn’t be too hard, pretend you’re talking to yourself.”

Cohen narrows his eyes and smirks. Harvey pulls the same face back, and for a second it’s just business as usual. Then, “He asked not to be disturbed. He’s in his office.” He raises his eyebrows, meaningfully. “With Barbara Kean.”

“Barbara Kean?” Harvey tries to keep the surprise off of his face, but judging by the look on Cohen’s he doesn’t do too well. “Well, OK then. Wasn’t too difficult, was it?”

“He _asked_ not to be _disturbed_.” Cohen repeats, as Harvey turns to head upstairs.

“Yeah, he’ll see me.” He calls back, over his shoulder. Most days, he’d believe it.

When he sees the drawn blinds, the weird, hollow feeling in his gut sinks deeper. He _knows_. He knows it in his soul, but Harvey’s an expert at swatting away every intrusive dark thought that attempts to invade his brain on the daily. He knocks, once, then rattles the door handle. It’s locked. Harvey bites his lip. Tries to push away the memories of them, here. _Together_. How Jim looked. Felt. _Tasted_. The depth of panic in his eyes after he came in Harvey’s mouth.

It’s been weird, since. Weird in how completely fine, how totally normal, it’s been. Like they’ve both been playing the roles of themselves around one another, hitting every note correctly, but not feeling a thing, like robots trying to play the blues.

Well, Harvey sure feels a thing or two right now.

“Jim?” He knocks again, louder. “You got a sec, buddy?”

“Just a moment.” _Fuck_. He sounds flustered. _Off_. Harvey glares at the closed slats of the blinds, like he can will x-ray vision through them. But what view would that afford him? There’s no reason he should feel like this. So what, Jim’s talking to Babs Kean: sure, they hate each other. So he hasn’t told Harvey his plans: things move fast around here, there’s not always the time. He leans his forehead against the glass. Maybe sort of prays. Muffled voices sound from inside the room, muted and conspiratorial. There’s a feminine giggle that sets Harvey’s teeth on edge, and then the door rattles as it’s unlocked and he steps back a little too quickly to be dignified.

“Harvey.” Barbara breezes past, looking sleek and immaculate in tailored slacks and some kind of goddamn patent-croc-leather corset, for pity’s sake. She shoots him a smile, looking like the cat that traded the canary up for a freakin’ parrot.

Harvey nods, stiffly. Tries to look above it, but can’t help crossing his arms on reflex. “Barbara. You about finished?”

“Oh, absolutely.” She pauses on the stairs down, one elegant gloved hand resting on the bannister as she bats her lashes at him. “He’s all yours. I’ve got everything I want from him.”

The sick feeling multiplies. Why’d she have to be so goddamn pretty? As he watches her leave, he feels just about ready to lose his lunchtime canned pears.

The thing that really, really does not help is how guilty Jim looks. Harvey slumps down on the couch and tilts his head, gazing as Jim paces distractedly in front of his desk. “What was that all about?”

“It’s...” He’s avoiding Harvey’s eyes. “Nothing to worry you.”

Harvey runs the tip of a finger along the seam of the leather couch cushion and feels like his heart is ripping slowly. “Maybe let me be the judge of that?”

That beseeching look that never fails to shred him: part begging, part _fuck you_. “Harvey, it’s nothing. I need to get some sleep. We can discuss this in the morning.”

“Sure.” Harvey nods, and stares at the floor. “You get some rest, brother. Looks like she wore you out.”

The blues play on.

Nothing much changes again, except suddenly Harvey and Jim are kinda unpopular with the surviving Green Zone refugees, for letting Zsasz disappear. They’re still no closer to unravelling the riddle of the Haven bombing. And nothing, Harvey thinks, can beat having the one person you want to be around, the only person who’ll still look you in the eye when they speak to you, be the guy who was so freaked out by your advances that he had to go right on and reassert his heterosexuality with his psycho ex.

The next time they’re alone, it’s in the captain’s office, because of course it is.

Every time Harvey’s been in here since… _since_, he’s been torn between gazing longingly at the chair behind the desk, and wanting to Lysol every surface, including his own brain. It’s killing him. He won’t sit. Hangs awkwardly in the doorway, arms folded, avoiding Jim’s sincere blue gaze.

“We need to talk.”

“Sounds serious.” Harvey forces levity. “What’s up? We got a new lead?”

“About Barbara.”

Harvey shakes his head. He’s gotta stay cool, but her name from Jim’s mouth just makes his temper instantly rear its head, every bad memory from the past years crowding suddenly back in. “Nah. That’s a conversation we don’t need to have.”

“Harvey, whatever’s… passed between us... We’re a team. I need you to know-”

His clenched fists are shaking._ Jim needs. _Because it’s always about what _Jim_ needs, _when_ he needs it – clearing his guilty conscience, assuming absolution from the person he knows will always grant it. And Harvey _can’t_. “I don’t need to know about _this_.”

He can’t look, at the crease of confusion and hurt that forms between Jim’s pale brows. “Harv?”

“Look, it's none of my business if you wanna get frostbite on your dick."

That one lands. Jim’s expression goes through confusion, shock and anger in 0.5 flat and it would be funny if Harvey didn’t feel like he was gonna puke again from sheer adrenalin. Usually it riles him up for a fight, but this time…

“And you think there's somewhere warmer I could stick it?” Jim says, his tone stilted and acidic.

_I don’t wanna fight. Not with you_. That familiar feeling drains through him, terrifying. The feeling of things running away from him. He wants to leave. To run. To drop to his knees and beg Jim to want him. But nature is stronger than sense: it runs in his family, and what actually bypasses Harvey’s brain and pops straight out of his big mouth is, “Well, Dorrance seems pretty hot for you.”

“_Excuse_ me?” Even after all these years, that uppity tone is like a red rag to this bull.

Harvey pushes away from the wall slow, takes a step closer, using his height advantage. “I dunno, I thought you said you didn't go in for all that in the army?”

“Is that what this is about?” The way he widens his stance and raises his chin like that’s gonna make him look any bigger and more intimidating than his 5’7 and 150-soaking-wet ever can – once upon a time Harvey thought it was cute. Hell, he hates that he still does, even when he’s so mad and hurting that he wants to smash his fist into that perfect jawline.

“This ain't _about_ anything. You're a big boy, you can make your own bed.”

“Just not with anybody you don't approve of?”

Harvey closes his eyes, just for a second. Opens them, his vision blurring. He’s never been good at controlling his temper. And Jim is his weakest spot. “Well, call me old-fashioned but I kinda prefer my lays to be people I at least like. At bare minimum people who ain't tried to off me.”

“Are you _jealous_?”

He hates that he has to look away. Knows he sounds unconvincing when he scoffs, “What? Because you boned your crazy ex? I'm starting to think you're the crazy one, Jimbo.”

“Is that what you think, huh?” Crap, he’s so hot when he’s angry.

Harvey raises his chin. Sneers. “Yeah. That's what I think.”

“Well you know what I think?” Jim’s eyes blaze. “I think you wish it had been you.”

Harvey opens his mouth. Shuts it, uselessly, reeling from the words like a blow. He can’t help but meet Jim’s eyes now, as Jim says, “I'm right, aren't I? Deny it.” And he sounds nothing short of triumphant.

“I'm not...” He can’t deny it. But this isn’t a game. Not some petty argument to be won on points. This is… “What the hell are you saying?” He asks, weakly.

“I didn't fuck Barbara.”

And Harvey’s struck dumb again. Too much to process, all at once. He manages a bitter laugh, his head spinning. “What, you struck out with the Prom Queen so you thought you’d try your luck with the Class Bike?”

“Harv, stop.” At the touch of Jim’s hand, circling his wrist, Harvey freezes. Looks down, stupidly, at Jim’s hand on his arm. Even the feel of fingertips touching the skin just below his cuff feels electric. Oversensitive. Jim’s voice is hesitant as he starts to speak again. “She came here to talk business. She wanted immunity. For the GCPD to look the other way, no matter what goes down at the club. In exchange she’s offering food. Harv, I agreed.”

“This is what you couldn’t tell me?” He’s still looking at Jim’s hand, unmoved from his arm. Jim takes a small step closer, til they’re standing in one another’s space.

“These people? I can’t protect them. I proved that. I was desperate. The least I could do was swallow my pride and bend the rules so they’re not starving any more. She was so _pleased_. So happy to be holding all of the cards. I couldn’t tell you. I was ashamed. I didn’t want you thinking even less of me, when we’d…”

“You’re a Grade A moron.” He can’t process this amount of conflicting emotion, running ragged through him. He knows he shouldn’t, but he can’t keep his hands to himself, bringing them up to cup the back of Jim’s head like he used to, cradling the base of his skull, so Jim’s face tilts up, those big eyes studying him all tentative and hopeful and fuck, it’s back again – the destructive urge to kiss him. “You know you can tell me anything. Always.”

“You say that.” His voice is low and rough and Harvey could swear he has tears in his eyes. “But I can’t.”

The buzzed hair beneath his fingers is soft, as he strokes the nape of Jim’s neck, tries to sooth him. “You can’t what?”

“I can’t stop thinking about…” He pauses. Swallows. “That night. You.” Barely more than an agonised whisper now. “_Us_.”

Too much, and then more. Harvey’s lost for words again, his heart pounding fit to crack his ribs. This can’t be real. He shakes his head. “What am I supposed to do with that, Jim? What does it mean?” The face cradled in his palms stares up at him, brows knit in distress like Jim doesn’t know what the hell is going on, either. “Please tell me, because I can't… I can't…” 

“I'm saying that I care about you. As more than a friend.”

"You don't mean that." He can’t. It’s too huge. Too close to everything Harvey’s ever dreamed of.

Jim frowns. "Don't tell me what I mean."

And Harvey can’t hold in a stunned little gasp of laughter, at that too-familiar pout. "You fucking... You kissed my forehead. You let me... Jesus, Jim."

"You said it didn't mean anything!" He sounds a touch shy of affronted now. It’s blowing Harvey’s tiny mind. His hands move down to Jim’s shoulders, squeeze, firm and possessive.

"What the hell was I supposed to say! I thought you were a millisecond from going full freak out on me!"

“You said it was no big deal and told me not to make it weird!”

“I…” He did. He totally said that. Harvey laughs again, flustered and lost. “What can I say? I’m a liar. It was a big deal. It was a really big deal.” A _really_ big deal. Suddenly, he needs desperately to sit down. Like his legs might give way at any moment. “Jim... I'm so sorry."

"What for?"

"I love you."

And just like that, it’s out. He closes his eyes against it. Feels Jim’s hand settle against the side of his face, Jim’s voice whisper, barely a loaded breath, “I love you too.”

Harvey’s squeezes his eyes tighter, to try and keep it all inside. It’s too much. The palm against his cheek urges his to bend, until their foreheads are pressed together, close and warm and Harvey cracks his eyelids open just enough to feel the well and catch of tears in his lashes, over-spilling down one cheek. “Please don’t give me this and then take it away again.”

“I won’t. I promise.” Jim’s breath hitches, this weird little hiccup that sounds like he’s crying too, but they’re pressed too close for Harvey to see. “What do you want? Anything. Anything.”

Harvey blinks against the onslaught, inhales deep. "I just want to hold you." His voice cracks somewhere in the middle, but it’s muffled against Jim’s hair as Jim presses himself against Harvey’s shoulder, strong arms circling Harvey’s chest tight.

For a moment they just stand there. And time goes on, the world goes on around them. The poised quiet of the captain’s office is exaggerated by the dim noises of No Man’s Land: the passing of footsteps and muffled voices beyond the office door; the distant sounds of shouts and shots and tyres outside. Harvey buries his nose in Jim’s hair and feels like he can breathe properly for the first time in months. Hell, maybe in his life.

Jim smells like Heaven. Even now, in this purgatory they’ve been damned to, he smells clean, alive. The scent of his hair mixed in with the fresh woodsy smell of whatever shampoo or pomade he uses. Harvey takes a deep breath and Jim’s arms tighten more, like he never wants to let go again. His body presses the full length of Harvey’s, belly to belly, and Harvey plants kiss after kiss onto the top of his head, his temples, his forehead, and feels like his chest is bursting with light.

Somewhere along the way, they end up on the couch. “Can I kiss you?” Harvey’s voice sounds alien to his own ears, not just how weird and choked, but the fact he’s asking, like some nervous kid on his first date. He has to ask though, can’t bring himself to just lean in and close this distance between them without some kind of formality, for all he had the guy’s dick in his mouth not two weeks ago. This feels bigger than that, no pun intended; more than sex. And Jim nods, looking every bit as shy as Harvey feels. After all this tiptoeing around one another, this is surreal. Once upon a time he'd have leapt on this opportunity, enjoyed a casual, meaningless roll in the sack with a hot colleague and gone back to business as usual. It's Jim that's changed him. Softened him. Ruined him. Harvey gathers him closer, their bodies fitting together so good and natural, in a way that predates any of this… he should have known. Should have seen it: hell, how were they _both_ so dumb? He runs a palm down Jim’s back, feeling the heat of him through the crisp cotton of his shirt. His heart thuds; a beat kick drum. His own reflection swimming in Jim’s clear, blue eyes. When their lips brush Jim makes a quiet noise and tips his head down. Harvey frowns. Drops a gentle kiss to his forehead, and takes a second to realise he’s laughing. “Really? That bad?” He pushes his cheek against the palm Jim brings up to caress it.

Jim smiles. Shakes his head, just slightly. “It’s just…”

“What, my beard?”

“Uh huh.”

“I can shave it off.”

“You’d do that for me?” He sounds kind of wondering.

“Sure. Although, I’ve had it for so long, I can’t vouch for how many chins it’s hiding by now.”

That prompts a soft laugh. Jim strokes his thumb across one furred cheek, gentle and reassuring. Slides his hand up into the length of Harvey's hair, tugging softly in a way that makes Harvey's mouth dry, his dick throb. “You don’t need to change anything for me. I don’t want you to change anything. Nothing at all.”

“See, I told you that you’re crazy.”

He’s just about to protest Jim’s little nod of agreement, when Jim leans in. Tries again. This time their mouths meet and neither of them pull back. It’s sweet and it’s gentle and it’s almost anticlimactic after all this time wanting, except that it’s not. Not at all. Jim whimpers, softly, a noise so completely unlike him, and Harvey drinks it in, his chest full of it, keeping up their fragile rhythm until they drift apart again and Harvey realises he’s panting quietly. “Not so bad.”

“Not bad at all,” Jim says. His eyes are alight. He leans in, nudges his nose against Harvey’s, and Harvey feels the brush of long lashes against his cheek before their lips find one another again, catch and linger.

It’s hypnotic. Intense and unhurried in a way Harvey could never have expected or hoped for but wants to draw out for the rest of his sorry existence. The way they keep stopping for breath, Jim drawing away only to gaze at him like he’s everything he wants in the world, until their lips meet again and everything is reduced to this treacle-slow yearning, kisses deepening in increments until Harvey is weak with desire, lips parting wider, tongues nudging, meeting, flowing. It feels like hours. Then he’s pushing his tongue into Jim’s mouth, slick and languid, sucking gently on Jim’s full lower lip and feeling his shudder of pleasure along the entire length of their bodies. Jim tastes like… nothing. He tastes like rain, like the smell of rain: fresh and night-hot and touched by the city. He’s starting to feel dizzy. Maybe it’s lack of oxygen – his breath coming fast and shallow, mingling with Jim’s - or just plain arousal – he’s been aching hard for what feels like hours, can feel Jim is too – but he doesn’t want to end this. To take it further. Not yet.

“We’ve got all the time in the world.” He thinks it, so he says it out loud. There doesn’t seem to be any sense in keeping things from Jim now.

Jim tilts his head. Drags his open mouth across Harvey’s jaw, down the side of his throat, wet and suggestive and the feel of it buzzes across Harvey’s skin, tingling in his scalp, the ache between his legs tight as a drum-skin. “The world is ending.”

“Nah.” Jim’s hair is a mess now, falling softly across his forehead. How long Harvey's waited, to have him to himself like this: he strokes the strands to one side with careful fingertips. “Just Gotham. The rest of the world’s still out there.”

“Do you think we’ll find our way back?” He sounds dreamy, for such a serious question. And somehow Harvey knows by ‘we’ he means the entire city.

So Harvey kisses him again, hard and wet and deep, until his lips are tingling and time is losing meaning. “I know we will.” He says, and he means it.

**Author's Note:**

> If you’ve read this far, thank you so much. Special thanks to all the commenters – you make writing worth it. Extra special thanks to Feurio and Owlettica who let me bend their ears and advised me about plot for this when I really couldn’t work out how to end it satisfactorily. I started writing it at the start of S5 and then the Barbara and Eduardo bits kinda threw me a curve-ball and I wanted to stay at least a little true to canon. 
> 
> I'm still not sure if I have ended it OK, but at least I finished it! I know it’s kinda mushy and a little more tame than my usual, but this is how the characters apparently wanted to take it, and I'm kinda feeling the comforting fluff at the moment… I’m thinking of maybe writing some random ‘Harvey bangs Jim into the mattress’ smut next, because I realised I don’t think I’ve ever actually written Jim bottoming yet, so I guess stay tuned?! xx


End file.
